


Playing with Matches

by emynn (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Matchmaking, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter finds no greater happiness in life than helping others fall in love. But he can’t quite seem to summon that same joy when Severus Snape shows up and asks him to find his match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing with Matches

  
**Title:** Playing with Matches  
 **Author:** [](http://emynn.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**emynn**](http://emynn.dreamwidth.org/)  
 **Other pairings/threesome:** Past HP/OMC, SS/OMC (non-explicit), SS/OFC (non-explicit)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 13,264  
 **Warning(s):** (highlight for spoilers) * EWE*  
 **Prompt:** #056: Harry has a marriage agency. Severus Snape, confirmed bachelor is his awkward customer. Can Harry/Cupid accomplish this quest? Bonus for prospective partners of both sexes.  
 **Summary:** Harry Potter finds no greater happiness in life than helping others fall in love. But he can’t quite seem to summon that same joy when Severus Snape shows up and asks him to find his match.  
 **A/N:** IMMENSE thanks to [](http://elf.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**elf**](http://elf.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=multimedea)[**multimedea**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=multimedea) , without whom this story would not be half of what it is today. *smooches* Certain elements of the story inspired by the absurdly trashy “reality” show, _Millionaire Matchmaker_.

  


  
  
**  
Playing with Matches    
**   


  
_”Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.” – Bruce Lee_

It was strange enough, but whenever Harry Potter needed a smile these days, he read the _Daily Prophet._

Demelza Robins and Eric Jordan were engaged. Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom had a lovely outdoor wedding. Ernie Macmillan and Sally-Ann Perks were expecting their first child in the summer. And Charlie Weasley and Lisa Turpin had just celebrated their fifth wedding anniversary by purchasing a new home. All thanks in part to Harry’s role as matchmaker.

It was reminders like these that made Harry proud of what he was doing with his life. Perhaps he wasn’t slaying dark wizards anymore or coming up with the cure to scrofungulus, but he was giving people a chance at happiness. Not every wizard could say that.

Harry set the paper down on his desk. He would have to remember to clip the articles later. There was a particularly sweet picture of Ernie and Sally-Ann he would like to add to his collection of photographs of happy clients adorning his office walls.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. “Come in, Emma.”

Emma Silverstone stepped into his office and carefully shut the door. She was a pretty young witch, with long chestnut hair and wide hazel eyes. He had offered to set her up with somebody numerous times, but she still held out hope her ex would come around. Pity, that. Besides being an excellent assistant, she was a kind and intelligent young woman who deserved somebody special.

“There’s a gentleman waiting who was hoping to see you today. He didn’t have an appointment, but I thought that since it was a quiet day …”

“I could fit somebody in,” Harry agreed. “I was only going to update the lists today. Have you had him tested already?”

Emma nodded. “Healthy as a hippogriff. Clear for both magical and Muggle diseases. No trace of drugs or illegal potions.”

“The sincerity test?”

“Passed it with flying colors. He is definitely looking to find love. The only thing is…”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I don’t trust that tone of yours.”

She shrugged, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. “His background check was a bit dodgy. He said right on his application that he was a Death Eater.” She still appeared hesitant when her gaze finally met his. “I know you said not all of them were evil, but I can’t help but think … ”

Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. As a professional matchmaker, he enjoyed a very high reputation. He accepted only the most worthy of clientele. He didn’t discriminate against people who had little money or prestige in society; he did, however, ensure that he only dealt with people of good character who were genuinely looking for love. It was what set him apart from other matchmakers.

This potential client could be a problem. It had been eight years since he had killed Voldemort, and while Harry had testified for more than a few Death Eaters whom he did not feel deserved time in Azkaban, that didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to take them on as clients.

“I thought the name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it,” she said.

Well, that was to be expected. Emma was a native of Australia who had only moved to England two years ago. The war hadn’t touched that side of the world as much.

“Who is it?” Harry held his glasses up to the light. They were smudged so badly he wasn’t sure how he’d even been able to see with them on.

“Snape,” she said. “Severus Snape.”

Harry dropped his glasses in shock. Grasping to set them back on his face, he gestured toward Emma. “Send him in.”

* * * * *

Severus didn’t wait for an invitation before taking a seat in the chair across from Harry. “Good afternoon,” he said.

“Same to you.” Harry paused. “Severus, what are you doing here?”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “I understand you work as a matchmaker. Given that I am in your office, filled out all of those wretched, never-ending forms, and paid your exorbitant fee, even an empty-headed Gryffindor like yourself could assume I wish to engage your services.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I get that. But I’ve seen you almost every other week ever since the end of the war. You don’t need to be here. Why not just ask me for help the next time we have dinner?” For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Severus would be sitting there in front of him unless he wanted something, and he very much doubted it was a love interest.

“I wouldn’t dream of insulting you by requesting the use of your services for free. You are a professional and I assumed you would want to be treated as such.”

“It wouldn’t be an insult, Severus. We’re friends; it’s just doing you a favor.”

“This is non-negotiable.” Severus crossed his arms. “Now, will you assist me or shall I seek out a matchmaker elsewhere?”

Harry sighed and looked down at the scrolls Emma had handed him. He unrolled the first one. “Well, your paperwork appears to be in order,” he said. “I’m just going to need to ask a few more questions.”

Severus waved an impatient hand. “Proceed.”

“Right then. First of all, all of my clients need to classify themselves as either a Seeker or a Keeper.”

Severus crossed one long leg over the other. “I should have known you wouldn’t be able to leave Quidditch completely behind.”

Harry ignored him. “Seekers are actively seeking a match. I meet with them regularly to ascertain how their dates are going, give them advice, and aggressively determine matches. Keepers pay a monthly fee to be kept in my name bank. I have their names on hold for when I find somebody who would be a good match for them. It’s a bit of a difference between actively looking for love and passively waiting for romance to find you. What would you like me to mark you as?”

“When have you ever known me to be passive, Potter?”

Harry laughed. “Fair enough. Great. Next question. I see you checked that you are interested in both men and women. Do you really not care for one over the other?”

“It’s no matter to me.”

“Seriously?” Even with all their conversations over the years, they had never touched upon the topic of romance. Frankly, Harry had always assumed Severus had never gotten over Lily, and he didn’t want to bring up a potentially painful subject in case reminding him of it destroyed the cautious friendship they had built.

“I am not delusional. I know what I look like. I will take whomever will have me.”

Harry leaned forward, concerned. “That’s not quite how relationships work. This is about making _you_ happy. You’re not going to be happy if you’re just settling.”

“I’m also not going to be happy if you persist in questioning what I tell you. I am open to either sex. Now, what is your next question?”

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “Next, what are you looking for in a partner – personality, age, physical appearance…and if you say it doesn’t matter to you, so help me—”

“I prefer somebody younger than myself,” Severus interrupted smoothly. “But no younger than twenty. I have no right to discriminate against somebody based on appearance, but I do appreciate a darker look. Personality, however, is quite important. I demand intelligence, ambition, integrity, and a sense of humour.”

The last caused Harry to pause in his note-taking. “A sense of humour? Severus, I can count the number of times I’ve heard you laugh on one hand.”

“Clearly very few people’s senses of humour have met my standards. More the challenge for you.”

“The master of understatement you are.” Harry set aside his notes and opened the top drawer of his desk. “Now, stay still. I need to shoot you.”

Severus eyed Harry’s bow and arrow with disdain. “If you'd just add cherub wings to the mix, Potter, we could hang you from Madam's Puddifoot's ceiling.”

Harry shrugged. “The clients like it. They find it sweet. Now, will you hold still?”

Severus held up his hands. “I am at your mercy.”

“There’s a first,” Harry muttered. “Right then.” He pulled a phial out of his drawer and tapped it once with his wand so it expanded to a basin roughly the size of his kitchen sink. He handed it to Severus. “Hold this, please, right in your lap.” He couldn’t resist the impulse to grin as he hoisted the bow and took aim at his once most-hated professor. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

As always, the arrow met its target: right to his client’s heart. But instead of piercing Severus’s chest, it melted into his skin, causing his entire body to glow, before passing through his back and circling around until it landed back on Harry’s desk. From where the arrow had touched Severus’s chest, small silken hearts floated into the basin.

Harry took the basin from Severus and tapped it with his wand. It once more turned into a small phial. He turned it upside down on his palm, allowing one silk heart to slide out.

“Morgan Arenap. You’ll like her. She just turned 30. She’s a statuesque woman, maybe only two inches shorter than you. Dark brown hair and blue eyes. She’s a mediwizarding researcher. You should have lots to talk about.”

Severus nodded. “Acceptable. I’ve been meaning to pay a visit to the London Wizarding Library to look up some information on oleander root. It would help to have a second set of eyes.”

Harry laughed, then caught a glimpse of the expression on Severus’s face. “Wait. You’re not serious, are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I was under the impression a common practice while dating is to share mutual interests. We both enjoy research. Why not conduct it together?”

“Because you’re looking for a love interest, not a revising partner! How do you expect to get to know each other on a personal level? You can’t decide you want to spend the rest of your life with a person based on her cross-referencing abilities!”

Severus glared down his nose. “You always were abysmal at research. You would never be able to appreciate the subtle nuances—“

“No, Severus. I refuse to allow you to take one of my paying clients to the library on your date.”

“I am also one of your paying clients, and I find it to be a respectable establishment, befitting a dignified woman.”

“Respectable establishment…Merlin. Her favorite restaurant is Cucina di Napoli; it’s an Italian place in Muggle London. You’ll take her there. If you like each other then I will allow you to broach the topic of a library date _with me_.”

“Why, Potter, I didn’t realize you were interested,” Severus said.

Harry felt his face burn. “I meant you could talk to me about taking her to the library. Christ, you’re difficult.”

“Are you this impatient with all of your clients?”

Harry softened. “I’m sorry. You’re right, that was entirely unprofessional of me.”

“It’s no matter.” Severus rose. “I have no Muggle clothes. You may accompany me to purchase some.”

“Now?”

Severus stared.

Harry sighed. “I’ll get my coat.”

* * * * *

“I will never understand how Muggles are able to procreate. These trousers are so tight I fear wearing them for more than two hours would permanently prevent me from having children.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shifted the pile of clothes in his arms. Severus had been entirely impossible since they arrived at the store. As if showing up at Harrods in full robes wasn’t conspicuous enough, Severus had to loudly vent his vexation with the clothing style as well. It was only half past one, but Harry was already thinking of the bottle of wine he had saved in the bottom drawer of his desk for a time rather like this.

“I’d be more concerned about the fate of your future children if you don’t hurry up and finish trying on that last outfit. I swear, if you’re in there even one more minute I’ll come in and punch you in the —“

Severus chose that moment to open the door. “As you were saying?”

Harry felt his throat close up. Severus looked incredible. The charcoal-grey trousers accentuated his trim hips, and the crimson jumper warmed his skin tone. It was as if he were looking at an entirely different person than the cantankerous man he had entered the store with.

“You look really nice,” Harry said.

Severus tutted impatiently as he turned around to examine himself in the mirror. “Absolutely ridiculous. I will be laughed out of the restaurant. Or arrested for indecent exposure. You can practically see the crease of my arse.”

Just as he was managing to pull himself together, Harry felt his entire body flame up. “I can assure you, I can see no such thing. But if you’re that self-conscious, you could wear something under the trousers, you know.”

“I never do; it is most uncomfortable. And in _these_?” Severus asked incredulously. “There would be _lines_.”

Harry nearly dropped the clothing he was holding. _Severus looks good in Muggle clothes. Severus never wears any underwear. Oh, my God._

“But I suppose they will do. I only need to wear them for a few hours. Perhaps that will only marginally diminish my sperm count.” Severus glanced at Harry over his shoulder. “Was there anything else you wanted me to try on?”

Harry shook his head dumbly. “No. No, you're good. I mean, we're good. I mean, you have enough clothes. I mean …” He sighed. “Let’s get out of here.”

* * * * *

“Right then, I think you’re all set,” Harry said as he and Severus walked out of the store. “I managed to get in touch with Morgan while you were taking your sweet time in the changing room. You’ll be meeting her at the restaurant this Friday at six.”

Severus nodded. “I will make a reservation.”

“Already done. It’s in your name. Now, a few ground rules. And _don’t_ raise your eyebrow at me.”

Severus sighed. “Proceed.”

“You are to be a gentleman. Any rudeness will not be tolerated. You will pay for the meal. You are not to have more than two drinks the entire evening. And finally, there is no sex before you verify with me that you have entered a serious, committed relationship.”

“Are you implying I am a boorish dolt only interested in getting my date in bed?”

“The same rules apply to everybody, Severus, and believe me, I’ll know if you break them. I run a respectable business, not an escort service. “

“Very well. Is that all?”

“For the moment. I’ll be in touch with you on Saturday to see how the date went.”

Severus adjusted the bags in his arms and shook Harry’s hand. “Thank you, Harry. I do appreciate your assistance in this matter.”

Harry grinned. “Just doing my job.”

* * * * *

Harry topped off his glass for the third time. His fingers were starting to feel warm and tingly, a sure sign he was just about to pass the tipsy stage and enter into the indisputably drunk phase. He grinned, pleased with life.

Severus popping around to be matched was certainly a surprise. But it shouldn’t have been, Harry told himself firmly. Just because Severus had been in love with Lily didn’t mean he should be expected to stay entirely celibate for the rest of his life. Harry had been very juvenile to ever think that. He took another sip of wine as punishment for his thoughtlessness.

Everybody deserved to be in love. It was his own personal mantra, and why he started this business in the first place. The Wizarding world had seemed to be in a depression even after Voldemort was killed. Everybody knew people in love were happier, so Harry had just started to match up some of his friends and discovered he actually had a knack for it. More and more people in love, more and more happy people…it was all quite lovely! Harry sighed happily. Then he eyed his glass and frowned. How did it get empty so fast? Perhaps it was a leaky glass…

“Harry James Potter, what on earth are you doing?”

Harry squinted at the doorway. “Hermione! I’m so happy to see you!” He really was. His smile was in danger of splitting his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I just bet you are. Now, why are you drinking in the middle of the afternoon?”

Harry furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “Long day. Needed some happiness.”

Hermione sighed and sat down in the chair across from Harry. “Harry, you’re old enough to know alcohol does not make you happy.”

“But it does!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at his grin. “Look at this!”

“Well, yes, but that’s just because you’ve always been an abnormally happy drunk. It’s not permanent.”

“Better than being a depressed drunk,” Harry nodded sagely. “Would you like some?” he asked, finally remembering his manners.

“No, thank you. Now, why was it such a long day?”

“Severus!”

“What about him? You’ve been getting along for years now.”

“I know that!” Harry said impatiently. “But now he’s my _client_!”

“Really! Well, I know it must be a bit peculiar to have a former professor as a client, but Severus deserves love just as much as anyone else.”

“I know,” Harry groaned, his head in his hands. “But I don’t want to help him.”

“Why not? I mean, I know he can be difficult to work with, and perhaps to pair with somebody who expects a conventional romantic, but he’s a good person.”

“And he looks damn good in trousers.”

“He…ah. I see.”

“You didn’t actually, but it’s probably for the best. You’d pounce on him, and Ron would not be happy.”

Hermione ignored him. “Harry, love, don’t you think it’s time you moved on past Neel?”

Harry nearly dropped his glass in shock. That would have been a catastrophe. He took another reassuring sip. “I’m over Neel. We stopped seeing each other two years ago.”

“You mean he broke your heart two years ago.”

“Neel is a nice bloke!” Harry said defensively. “We just didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, because he was a self-centered prick without an ounce of emotion in his body.”

Harry shrugged. “Only at the end. We had fun for a while.”

“Sure, for about a month. Then we all watched him bring you down as he lived the rich life of the boyfriend of the Chosen One and tried to mold you into this bon vivant you were not comfortable being. Harry, he slowly destroyed you. You kept him around because you thought he was Prince Charming and he was going to bring out the best in you, when really he was just trying to change you completely.”

“And that’s why I ended it,” Harry said defensively. He hated when Hermione got like this. He and Neel weren’t right for each other. He knew that. Maybe it took him a bit longer to realize it than it should have, but he did in the end. “We’re better off just as friends.”

Hermione sighed. “Harry. I just want you to be happy.”

Harry pointed up at his mouth again. The grin was a little less face-splitting now, but it was still there. Somewhat, at least. “I am. See?”

Hermione stood and paced about the room. “Look at all these pictures on your wall. All of these happy couples whose marriages you arranged. You started all of their lives and brought them joy. Don’t you think it’s time for you to find happiness with somebody, to have your own picture on your wall?”

Harry glanced at the bottle. It was empty. “Hermione…”

“The only other time I saw you drink during the day was when you finally decided to call it quits with Neel,” she said softly. “I’m just concerned.”

“But nothing happened today! I just went shopping with Severus, who apparently wants to get married.”

Hermione gave Harry one of those stares that reminded him uncomfortably of Dumbledore. It was like she could read his damn mind. He looked down.

“Would you like to come over for dinner? Ron is demanding gnocchi.”

Italian. It made Harry feel irrationally nauseous. “No, thanks. I think I’m just going to clean up here and head home and into bed early. Lord knows I’ll have a hangover in the morning.”

Hermione leaned down and kissed his cheek. “We love you, Harry.”

Harry smiled. It was mostly sincere this time. “I know. Now get out of here.”

* * * * *

Incessant knocking woke Harry from his slumber. “Can’t a man get some sleep on a Saturday morning?” he muttered as he fumbled for his glasses. “Just cruel, it is.”

He made his way to the front door, grumbling the entire way. It was too damn early to be dealing with…

“Severus! What are you doing here?”

Severus glared down his nose at him. “You said you would be in touch with me today. I am simply holding you to your professional expectations.”

“I said I would contact you today, not before sunrise!”

“It’s noon.”

Harry turned around to examine the clock hanging on the wall. “Time to take your Pepper-Up!” it reminded him. Damn, the bastard was right. Well, a bit of a lie-in never hurt anyone, and besides, he’d had trouble sleeping the night before.

“Fine. Well, come in.”

Severus entered and took a seat at the kitchen table. “I will allow you to get dressed,” he stated primly, folding his hands.

“You’ll allow me…Severus, you woke me up on a Saturday and now you’re complaining about my choice of pajamas?”

“Or lack thereof,” he replied. “I was only thinking of your comfort, that perhaps you wouldn’t like to conduct business shirtless, but by all means, stay half-naked. You will not hear another word from me.”

“Oh, for…give me a minute.”

Harry hurried back into his room and grabbed a shirt. Normally he’d put on jeans as well, but his lounge pants were damn comfortable, and he wasn’t ready to get out of them yet, Severus or no Severus. Deciding it was best not to leave Severus alone for too long, he headed back out into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

“Fine, then. How was your date?”

Severus shrugged. “She was intelligent. Attractive. A fine researcher.”

Harry took two cups out from the cupboard. “And?”

“I was bored out of my mind.”

“I’m not surprised,” Harry chuckled. “She was rather safe, wasn’t she? I see you with more of a challenge.”

“If you are not surprised, why did your wretched device choose her as my first date?”

“Think of it as establishing a baseline. Tea?”

“Yes, please. Well, I would rather not go on another date with her.”

“That’s fine. I already took the liberty of pulling your next date. His name is Ian Hopkins. He’s a very talented artist. He specializes in something called ‘mood paintings.’ They’re supposed to have a powerful effect on the atmosphere of a room.”

“I have heard his name before,” Severus mused. “I believe Draco has one of his paintings in his parlor.”

“I’m sure. They are obscenely expensive. Well, then. Where would you like to take him? And _not_ the library.”

“Well, certainly not that Italian place again. The cuisine was awful. My penne was horribly overcooked.”

Harry stirred a heaping spoonful of sugar into his tea. “Well, if you’re so finicky, why don’t you cook dinner for him yourself?”

“Are you quite serious?” Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. “That does not sound like a refined way to spend an evening.”

“Haven’t you ever had somebody cook for you?” Harry asked with a grin. “It’s sweet, very romantic. It shows that your date took time to prepare something specifically for you to enjoy. No better way to show that you’re interested. So long as you can cook.”

“Of course I can cook,” Severus said waspishly. “I spent decades brewing potions where a single mistaken ingredient can cause an explosion that would destroy the entire castle; I do believe I can manage a passable meal. That is also neglecting the basic fact that I am 45 years old. How would you expect me to survive all these years?”

“Well, you did spend half of those years being fed at Hogwarts.” Harry smiled at Severus’s glower. “I kid. Now, I can see if Ian is available this upcoming Saturday. That will give you a week to prepare something. Is that enough time?”

Severus nodded slowly. “Yes…although I would appreciate a dress rehearsal first, if you will.”

Harry took a sip of his tea. “How so?”

“Come to my home this Wednesday. I will prepare the meal for you. You will give me your honest opinion of the fare, as well as my home, and whether it is appropriate for a first date. We will proceed from there.”

Harry nodded. “That makes sense. Although I promised Ron and Hermione I’d have dinner with them on Wednesday…”

“Wednesday at seven,” Severus interrupted. He stood and headed for the door. “Do not be late.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Severus shut the door.

The bastard hadn’t even drank his tea.

* * * * *

Harry checked his watch one last time. It was half past six. He could justify packing up to leave now. At ease for the first time in the day, he began to collect his files.

“I’m so sorry,” Emma said as she entered his office. “I know you have a commitment tonight, but he’s just refused to listen—”

“Really, Emma, Harry and I are old friends. I hardly need to book an appointment to see him.”

Neel Patil was still handsome enough to take Harry’s breath away. He had all the classic good looks of his younger twin sisters, but distinctly masculine. Memories of tracing his tongue down that chiseled jaw as he clutched Neel’s long, wavy hair in his hands flooded through Harry’s mind.

“Harry?” Emma was asking. She looked annoyed.

“It’s fine, Emma,” he said hurriedly. “I have time for a quick chat.”

Emma sighed, but left the room. Really, Harry didn’t know why all the women in his life held such grudges against Neel. Sure, he’d been in love with him, and had been depressed for ages when their romance began to go sour, but he was a nice enough bloke. And just because Harry loved him _once_ didn’t mean he was going to fall back into his arms if they spent five minutes together. He’d learned his lesson the first time. He and Neel just didn’t work.

“Neel, I’m sorry, but I really do have an appointment at seven.”

Neel took the seat across from Harry’s desk and crossed one long leg over the other. “Oh, really? Hot date?”

“It’s business,” Harry muttered, shuffling through his files. “Very demanding client.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be Severus Snape, would it?”

Harry paused. “How did you know?”

“Oh, everybody’s talking about it,” Neel replied with a smirk. “How Severus Snape is seeking the services of the famous Harry Potter, looking for love at last, when everybody with half a brain knows—”

“Neel, this is highly unprofessional. I refuse to speak ill of a client.”

Neel shrugged. “Suit yourself. I was only trying to help.” His dark, almond-shaped eyes held a plaintive gaze. “I don’t know why you always think the worst of me. You always held me to these absurdly high standards, and then the second I say something even vaguely offensive, you get all pissy.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Neel, honestly. I don’t have the time to hash out the same old fight again. You are here in my office. What do you want?”

“Fine,” Neel huffed. “Don’t get all in a snit.” Seeing Harry’s warning expression, he sighed and said, “I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by and see if there were any prospects.”

It still stung a little. Even though Harry had accepted that Neel was a self-centered, pompous berk, he was also witty, cultured, and had a wicked sense of humour. Harry had also been terribly in love with him. And now each time Harry saw Neel’s name on his list of Keepers, his stomach twisted. Ron and Hermione didn’t know why he accepted Neel as a client; Hermione had actually once gone into a rage that claimed two porcelain vases and a set of wine glasses, but Harry maintained that Neel had the potential to make somebody a loving partner. Just not him.

“Your name hasn’t popped up recently,” Harry said, relieved he was telling the truth. “You know I would contact you immediately if it did.”

“Naturally, naturally. I was just curious…Snape, you know? I always had a bit of a crush on him in school, and now that he’s actually washing his hair…”

 _He’s been washing his hair?_ Harry shook his head. He needed to focus on the important things. “Neel, again, this is highly unethical. My clients entrust me with their preferences and magical signature so that I can use an objective technique to match them with a partner. For you to ask me to bypass that so you can satisfy a schoolboy fantasy is reprehensible.”

“Hey, I’m not asking you to manipulate the results,” Neel said, holding his hands up in innocence. “I was just saying I was surprised my name didn’t come up. I think Snape and I would make a good match.”

“If you are asking me to look for a partner for you, you will have to ask Emma to switch you from a Keeper to a Seeker in our files,” Harry said curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”

Neel smiled as he rose from his seat and headed to the door. “Give my regards to Severus, would you?”

“Sure,” Harry ground out, not quite understanding the level of vitriol he was feeling toward his ex at the moment. But he didn’t have time to decipher it now. He had an important date.

 _Appointment_ , he corrected himself immediately in his head. _Appointment._

* * * * *

“You seem flustered, Harry, is something wrong?”

“I’ve been here all of thirty seconds. How can you tell if I’m flustered?” Harry asked, allowing Severus to help him with his cloak. He was annoyed for noticing that Severus had indeed been washing his hair, and also had on rather formfitting robes that looked quite soft to the touch…

Severus hung up the cloak on a coat rack in the corner and nodded for Harry to follow him to the parlor. “Your face is an open book. You blink more when you are nervous, and when you are tense, the muscles in your jaw pinch back. You also tend to purse your lips, as though you are overcompensating for your lack of control over your scattered mind. Anybody with a pair of eyes could see you are nervous.”

“Not nervous,” Harry admitted. “Just had an unexpected run-in with an ex.”

“Ah. Wine?”

Harry shook his head, remembering his vicious hangover from the other day. “No, thanks. Help yourself though.”

“Perhaps later.” Severus took a seat opposite Harry. “As you see Miss Weasley on a regular basis, am I correct to assume this was Mister Patil?” His dark eyes glittered strangely.

“You know, I _have_ dated more than two people.”

“Those were the only two I considered worth paying any attention to.”

Harry laughed. “That’s rich. You called Ginny an insipid twit and refused to ever talk about Neel.”

“I never had anything to say about him.” For some reason, Severus’s expression was almost dangerous. It disappeared a second later, and Harry decided it must have been a trick of the light.

“Oh, please. You have something to say about everybody.”

“Very well then. Mister Patil is exceedingly handsome, exceptionally intelligent, and possesses a fair wit. Unfortunately, he is all too aware of it, and seeks to make others his personal fashion accessories when he has no right to do so. Satisfied?”

No. No, Harry was not satisfied. Actually, he quite felt like he had been punched in the stomach. But that made no sense. Severus had just _complimented_ Neel. Granted, he had capped it off with a couple of rather unoriginal insults, but still, Severus listing three admirable qualities about one individual was about as common as a blizzard in the Sahara. What’s more, Neel had just expressed an interest in Severus. Hell, Harry should just drop them both from his services and let them find each other on their own.

“Harry?”

Harry managed a queasy smile. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Hmm. Well, what did Mister Patil want from you?” A vein running alongside the scars on Severus’s neck was throbbing, something that normally only happened when he was particularly emotional. Harry felt the knot in his stomach tighten. He had never realized Severus felt so strongly about Neel.

Harry looked down at his hands. “It’s not important.” He took a deep breath and summoned back the reason he was here in the first place. His confidence restored, he felt more assured in charging ahead. “Besides, this is supposed to be a dress rehearsal for your date, and discussing Neel would be breaking the first rule of dating: no discussions of exes.”

“My apologies,” Severus replied. “I assure you it will not be an issue with Mister Hopkins.”

“Good enough. So, how has your week been so far?”

Harry never would have guessed it eight years ago, but things were just so _easy_ with Severus. Granted, it hadn’t happened overnight. Harry vividly remembered when Severus woke up in St. Mungo’s and saw him: Believing he was dead and trapped with Harry in the afterlife, Severus screamed at him, condemning him as a useless failure, to the point that the Healers had reluctantly asked Harry to leave. Apparently they were legitimately concerned that the vein pulsing in Severus’s neck might pop, utterly negating all the work they had done to heal the snakebite.

But Harry hadn’t given up, although he _did_ wait until Severus was fully healed before approaching him again. The first time, Severus had slammed the door on his face. The second time, he allowed Harry to prattle on for about five minutes before saying he had a glass of water waiting inside that wasn’t going to drink itself. After that, Harry tried to go the letter route. Severus never wrote back, but the letters also were not returned to Harry, so he took that as a positive sign. And after two months of entirely one-sided correspondence, Harry took another gamble and knocked at Severus’s door once more. This time, Severus invited him to have lunch in Diagon Alley.

It would be a fiction to say they were inseparable ever since; Harry only managed to wrangle a meeting with him every three weeks or so at first. But Severus was receptive to him, and seemed to understand Harry’s need to atone for his past transgressions. He had, after all, spent most of his lifetime making up for his own mistakes. They developed a tentative companionship, but it was one Harry had not been willing to sacrifice for any reason. He’d not only wanted to get to know this man, this dark hero, his Half-Blood Prince… he _needed_ to.

Harry still smiled when he remembered the first time Severus had been the one to initiate one of their meetings. It had been a Tuesday, and Harry was just about to call it an early day and head home when he received an owl. _“Potter. After suffering through the rambling on of the most incompetent fools in this hemisphere for an entire day, I managed not to kill a single soul. I am celebrating my good behavior with a drink at The Leaky Cauldron. You may join me if you are so inclined. Snape.”_

It just so happened that Harry _had_ been inclined, and he met Severus an hour later.

And now, here they were, years later, fairly good friends. Harry had to think so, anyway. He didn’t think Severus let just _anyone_ in his home, matchmaker or no.

“I believe dinner is ready.”

Harry smiled at Severus. “Lead the way.”

* * * * *

Dinner was delicious, of course. The Cornish game hens, stuffed with a mixture of seasoned vegetables, were presented perfectly, and the accompanying roasted potatoes melted in Harry’s mouth. Ian was really going to have a difficult time resisting Severus after a meal like this, Harry thought. And to imagine all the effort Severus had put into just the test run! It would be beyond incredible on his actual date.

Harry sighed. He wasn’t sure why these fits of melancholia kept swooping in on him. Maybe he needed a holiday.

“Could I now tempt you with that drink?” Severus asked.

Well, a little one couldn’t hurt, could it? Besides, it would be rude to turn him down twice. “Sure.”

Severus nodded. “Why don’t you sit down in the parlor? I will clean this up and join you there.”

Harry took his seat on the sofa in the parlor. It really was getting late; they had spent nearly three hours enjoying their dinner. He hadn’t even noticed.

Severus returned with two glasses filled with a deep red liquid. “Elf-made wine,” he explained, handing Harry one. Then he sat on the couch right next to Harry.

Harry bit down the impulse to ask why Severus was sitting there even when earlier he had taken his own chair. This was Severus’s house and he was allowed to sit anywhere he wanted, even if it made Harry’s pulse race and his hands sweat.

“You seem flustered again, Harry,” Severus said softly.

“’m not,” he insisted. He couldn’t quite bring himself to drink the wine. He was sure he would choke on it.

“If you say so,” Severus said all too agreeably. He took a sip from his own glass. When he brought his hand down, it was right next to Harry’s thigh. “Now then. How would you rate my performance tonight?”

“P-performance?” Harry stuttered.

“That is why you are here, is it not?” Severus asked, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You were to evaluate my culinary skills and hosting abilities in preparation for my date with Mister Hopkins.”

“Right, right,” Harry muttered. He took a deep breath, finally finding his footing. _He_ was the expert here, and he was being paid to offer his opinion. “Well, as I said, the food was delicious. You could definitely serve that again and I’m sure Ian would fall over himself. The conversation was also engaging. You do know when to be quiet while eating and know when is the proper time not to force conversation just for the sake of having conversation. Your manners were impeccable. All in all, I’d say you were the perfect host.”

Severus nodded seriously. “Thank you. I do feel better prepared for my engagement.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Harry said with a grin.

“Indeed.” Severus took another sip of his wine. This time the base of his glass landed directly on Harry’s thigh, and his wrist and part of his forearm were touching it. “Now, let’s say all goes as it did today this Saturday. We have just finished our meal and are having an after-dinner drink. We are sitting on the couch, just as the two of us are, making light conversation. Would it be appropriate, at this time, for the two of us to kiss?”

Harry felt his heart catch in his throat, making it quite difficult to breathe, let alone speak. “No sex before—”

“Of course not,” Severus said smoothly. Was Harry imagining it, or was he even closer than he was before? “But a simple kiss? Just a light brushing of the lips, perhaps a bit more?”

“It would depend on what he was comfortable with,” Harry breathed. “You’ll have to look for visual cues, body language—”

“Harry,” Severus rasped out. He was leaning directly over Harry now, his face only inches away.

“I have to go!” Harry blurted. Severus pulled away and leaned back into his seat. “Sorry, it’s late, and I have an early morning tomorrow, sorry.” He stood up quickly and all but ran to the front door. “Really sorry, Severus. But you were great. Great. Ian’s a lucky bloke.” With a parting wave, he headed out the door.

It was only when he reached home that he realized he forgot his cloak.

* * * * *

Harry spent the next several days debating whether or not he should be in touch with Severus. Normally he only saw him once a week anyway, so he had no real reason to seek him out again so soon. But after darting out of his house like that for no reason…well, Harry just felt like he should say _something_ to excuse his rudeness, even if it was just to explain he had gone temporarily insane. Plus, Severus _did_ have his cloak, and it was a bit chilly out.

But in the end Harry made do with his second-best cloak. He just couldn’t bring himself to face Severus. He didn’t know what got into him, or why he was so jumpy around Severus, but it was entirely unprofessional. Still, he didn’t want to further humiliate himself by making it a point to see him before planned, so he decided to wait until he and Severus discussed his date with Ian, and then he would apologize for going completely around the twist.

Saturday came and went with no word from Severus. On Sunday morning Harry was up early, shaved, showered, and dressed, just in case Severus pulled a repeat of the week before.

He didn’t.

That should be a good thing, Harry told himself as he busied himself reorganizing his closet and washing his dishes by hand. Their own fake date had lasted until eleven; imagine how late a real one could have run! And if Severus had decided to risk going in for a kiss… Even if he abided by the no sex before being in a committed relationship rule, that could make it a _very_ late night.

The glass Harry was drying shattered in his hand.

He quickly set about cleaning it up. His palm was bleeding, but it didn’t look like there were any shards of glass in it. He would just bandage that up…

Ian was a wonderful bloke, Harry reminded himself as he wrapped up his hand. And he could really see him being great for Severus. Ian was creative, with an active, engaged mind. He had a dark side, or so the art critics in the _Daily Prophet_ claimed after viewing some of his latest pieces. He was also absurdly handsome.

By two, Harry was convinced he would be able to officially close Severus and Ian’s files. Deciding it was best not to wait till Monday, he Flooed into his office.

All the happy couples in the photographs lining his walls waved to him in greeting. Harry managed a weak smile. Somehow, he just wasn’t finding the job as fulfilling as he once had. It just didn’t make any sense; only a few weeks ago he was bubbling over with excitement as he told Hermione and Ron the latest of his matchmaking successes. Now he found himself vaguely resentful of his clients’ happiness.

Perhaps Hermione was right. Maybe he _did_ need a boyfriend. If only he had an idea of how to do that without involving his bow and arrow system. It _would_ be unethical to put himself down in the list of Keepers, right? He frowned. Perhaps he would find somebody on that holiday he was going to book. Except what if he met somebody fantastic in France and his new lover expected him to relocate? That would never work.

It was only when his stomach began to grumble that Harry realized he had completely wasted the afternoon brooding and thinking of various destinations to travel. And still no word from Severus.

“This is absurd,” he said out loud. “I am Severus’s matchmaker. I told him I’d ask about the date the next day. There’s no reason why I can’t contact him myself. Or go to his house so I can also finally get my coat. Right?”

Several of his clients in the photographs gave him thumbs up and encouraging grins.

“Thanks,” Harry said. Somehow, he felt he was going to need all the luck he could get.

* * * * *

Severus was holding Harry’s cloak when he answered the door.

“Take your blasted cloak and go,” he hissed, his lips curled in a menacing scowl. “And get the hell out of my sight.”

Harry took the cloak but didn’t leave. “Severus? What’s wrong? I’m sorry if I—”

“I will not stand to be humiliated, not even by the likes of—”

He was really that angry that Harry had left so suddenly? Well, bollocks. Harry had really fucked this up. Well, he wasn’t an impetuous Gryffindor for nothing. “Severus, I’m sorry, but…can we talk about it?”

“Oh, the matchmaker wants to _talk_. Well, let’s talk.” Severus gripped Harry’s forearm, so tightly there would likely be bruises the next day, and yanked him inside.

“Severus?”

“I suppose you stopped by to see how my date went.”

“Well, I admit I was a little surprised you didn’t stop by first thing like you did last week, but—”

“Your stellar reputation as a matchmaker was clearly yet another lie designed to enhance the golden image of the Chosen One,” Severus spat. “I should have known you would only seek to humiliate me at every turn.”

Ouch. That hurt. And also seemed to come out of nowhere. Harry didn’t think they were talking about dinner the night before anymore. “Did the date not go well?”

“Oh, it was positively divine. I made a hearty chicken pot pie, served my middle-tier alcohol, and then he proceeded to tell me he WAS EXCITED FOR OUR DATE BECAUSE HE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE WITH A DEATH EATER!”

“He said WHAT?” Harry tamped down the fury boiling in his belly. How _dare_ one of his clients insult his friend like that? No wonder Severus was livid. Why, Harry was already trying to remember where Ian lived so he could string him up and teach him a few things about discovering his “dark side.”

Severus looked a bit taken aback by Harry’s outburst, but his eyes still blazed. “You heard me, Potter. I’m sorry to disillusion you about the motives of your dear, beloved clients.”

“It’s not my client I care about, you bastard!” Harry shouted. “Christ! I just can’t believe…Severus, you _know_ I would never condone something like that, don’t you?” He tentatively reached out and grabbed Severus’s wrist. “I would never. Not with any client, but _especially_ not with you. Ian’s behavior was despicable and you can be certain I’m going to make sure he pays for the way he treated you. You deserve somebody amazing, who doesn’t let your past define your current identity.”

Severus was looking down at where Harry’s hand clasped his wrist. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I was not thinking clearly.”

“No, you have every right to be angry. I can’t wait to quietly spread the rumour that his lover has been the one actually producing his famous paintings while Ian was busy recovering from a string of venereal diseases. The two things he values most: his reputation for his art and his reputation for his love-making. It’ll destroy him.”

Severus snorted. “Harry.”

“Come back to my office,” Harry pleaded. “I promise, this next person will be it. I have a good feeling.”

Severus tensed and jerked his arm out of Harry’s grasp. “I’m not sure that would be a wise idea.”

“Really, Severus? It’s only been two dates. Sometimes it just takes a bit longer. I don’t want you to give up on finding love just because Ian was a jackass.”

“Perhaps not only because of that,” Severus murmured.

“What was that?”

“You should go,” Severus said, more loudly this time.

“Severus?” God, the man looked so utterly defeated. He was practically curling in on himself. Harry couldn’t believe Ian had broken Severus’s spirit so horribly. “Please. I want to help.”

“I need to be alone right now, Harry.”

Harry sighed. He had never seen Severus like this. A part of him wanted the spitting, raging Severus back; at least Harry knew how to handle him. He didn’t know what to do with a man who looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders made of glass. But perhaps he did just need some time on his own. Harry could check back in on him in a couple of days.

“Okay, then. Just promise me you’ll get some rest? And let me know if you need anything?”

Severus nodded, his eyes never leaving the floor.

“Right. Thanks. Well, good bye then, I suppose.”

“Good bye.”

It was the strangest thing, Harry thought as he walked out the door, his cloak draped over his arm. It almost felt as if his heart were breaking.

* * * * *

“Harry James Potter, what on earth are you doing?”

Harry opened one bleary eye. Damn, he had fallen asleep at his desk again. His back was going to kill him.

“You know, Hermione, if you keep entering my office that way, I’m going to have to ward it against you.”

“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish grin. “You just bring it out in me. But we do need to talk.”

“About what?” Harry readjusted his glasses on his face.

“About why you’re being such a sulky idiot.”

“I’m not a sulky idiot!” Harry protested. “Just because I decided to take a few days off… You’re the one who keeps saying I need a holiday!”

“Oh, this is your holiday? I hadn’t realized…what with my finding you napping on your desk using your files as a pillow.”

Harry didn’t bother to dignify her with a glance as he moved to collect said files. “I just needed to stop by for some things and I ended up taking a little nap. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Hermione sighed. “Harry, Ron and I have been trying to get in touch with you for days and you haven’t answered any of our owls or your Floo. Ron stopped by your place yesterday; he said it looks like you haven’t been there in a week. Now you’ve closed up your office, which you haven’t done once since you’ve started matching. And don’t tell me you haven’t, because I already spoke with Emma; she said you told her not to come in for at least a week. We know something’s wrong.”

“ _We_ know? Where’s Ron, then?”

“Oh, you know he’s awful at anything related to human emotions. He’s at home taking inventory of our spirits in case it turns out his style of counseling is needed.” Hermione’s tone said it clearly wouldn’t be necessary.

“Got it. Well, thank you both, but I’m fine. I’ve just been a bit out of it recently.”

“Very recently, in fact,” Hermione replied. “I’d say since you took on a certain client.”

“What, Severus? Hermione, really, that’s not it. It’s just a coincidence.”

“That’s a pretty big coincidence, Harry. Did you ever think that the reason you’ve been feeling so off is that you didn’t really want to set Severus up with somebody?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Harry scoffed. “I’m a professional. Of course I want Severus to be happy.”

“You are a professional matchmaker,” Hermione agreed. “And of course you want your clients to be happy. But you also want your _self_ to be happy. And I think it’s killing you that you are being paid to match Severus with his happily ever after when he is what you want for yourself.”

“What?” Harry sputtered. “Hermione. That is just…no. I have never thought of Severus in that way. He’s a friend.”

“That’s probably the problem, isn’t it?” she asked, her face adapting the expression it normally took when she was trying to figure out a puzzle. “He’s always been entirely asexual to you. First he was your most hated professor, the one who killed Professor Dumbledore and who you thought was a Death Eater. Then he turned into this hero figure you put on a pedestal, and you were trying so hard to earn his forgiveness. Now you have his friendship, but you’re still so hesitant to do anything that would jeopardize that. And as lovely as it may be, starting a romantic relationship can certainly put a friendship in trouble if it goes sour.”

Harry shook his head, his mind reeling. He didn’t have _feelings_ for Severus. What’s more, Severus would never think of Harry that way. The whole idea was completely ludicrous. “You’re wrong. Severus and I…we would never work.”

Hermione groaned. “I swear, Harry, you could not be any thicker if you tried. Even a blind man could see the two of you care deeply for each other. Don’t think I don’t know who planted that piece in the _Prophet_ that Ian Hopkins had sex with a dragon and that he stole his creations from others. His career is ruined, and he hasn’t left his house since the photographers snapped you leaving it with that satisfied expression you get when you feel you’ve _saved_ somebody. I’m having trouble believing that’s just a coincidence.”

Harry flushed and looked down at his hands. “He hurt Severus. I wasn’t just going to take that lying down.”

“And if Ian had hurt me, would you have done the same?”

“That’s different,” Harry said immediately. “You wouldn’t need me to. You have Ron—”

Hermione leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Precisely.”

Harry groaned and rested his hand in his hands. “What am I going to do?”

“Well, you could tell him, for one, although I’m sure he already has his suspicions.”

“But that’s entirely unethical! Severus is my client, and has entrusted me to use my proven methods to find him a suitable match. How can I just toss that aside and ask him out to dinner?”

“Harry, honestly, you could put your own name in that list of Keepers and I guarantee you that your name would be the next one pulled.”

“I don’t know…”

“Potter!”

Harry jumped up from his daze. Severus was striding through his doorway with the same commanding presence he used to stalk the corridors of Hogwarts. “Severus! What are you doing here?”

“This is your office, is it not? I assumed it would be the appropriate place to discuss your business.”

“Um, right. Hermione?”

“Don’t worry,” she said as she stood up to leave. “Come on by later if you like.”

Once she left, Harry looked back at Severus. How had he never truly noticed this man before? Severus may not be conventionally attractive, to be sure, and nowhere as near as handsome as Neel. But his body was fit and trim, his features striking, and his eyes burned with some unknown emotion when he looked at Harry. And now that he was washing his hair and actually looked like he was putting forth an effort to take care of himself, he did look quite elegant.

“Once you have finished gawking, I thought we might finally get to the business of selecting my next date.”

Harry felt his entire body burn, with nerves or anticipation he wasn’t sure. “Oh? You decided to give it another go?”

“Yes. Clearly the first two were defective. It’s not your fault you didn’t realize Hopkins had a fetish for Death Eaters. Now, select me another partner.”

 _This was it_ , Harry thought. He could make his move now. He saw it in his head; all he would have to do is say “Fortunately for you, Severus, I have already selected your next partner, and I’m certain he will be the man of your dreams.” And when Severus asked who that mysterious person was, Harry would not say a word, just walk over to him and kiss him square on the lips…

The Harry in his imagination was so suave.

Unfortunately, Harry himself was not so slick and was still coming to terms to the fact that yes, he _was_ attracted to Severus and wanted to be with him quite badly. And all the meanwhile Severus was still looking at him with those dark eyes that were glittering with something that was _possibly_ passion but also possibly irritation, and Harry couldn’t handle finding out which just yet. So instead he forced a sick smile on his face and reached in his desk for Severus’s phial.

“Of course.” He pulled out a silk heart.

Immediately he felt his own heart sink.

“Neel Patil.”

* * * * *

Harry moved his potatoes listlessly around his plate. He’d had almost no appetite all week, ever since Severus had left his office in a fit of determined optimism, proclaiming it was going to be his last first date. It didn’t help that Hermione really wasn’t the best of cooks. The potatoes were bland, nowhere near as delicious as the ones Severus had made for him…

He groaned and set his fork down. “I’m sorry. I really should get going.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, one that clearly said Harry couldn’t be trusted to be left to his own devices and they needed to keep him there with them for his own good. It annoyed Harry. Hermione was always a know-it-all, but when did Ron become so bloody reasonable?

“Harry,” Hermione said gently, “We know this is a difficult night for you. Wouldn’t you like to be with friends?”

 _A difficult night_. That was certainly one way to put it. His ex, the only man he had ever seriously loved, was currently on a date with the man he just realized he desperately wanted to call his own. And what’s more, they were abso-bloody-lutely perfect for each other. It had taken all of Harry’s willpower not to load his bow with an actual arrow and shoot Neel after he waltzed in, boasting of the excellent seats at the symphony for their date. Harry hadn’t even realized Severus _liked_ classical music—at least, he didn’t until Severus stopped by to gain Harry’s approval on the expensive restaurant he was planning on taking Neel and informed Harry that he was pronouncing Chopin’s name incorrectly and what’s more, it wasn’t classical music; it was music from the _Romantic_ era.

Fuck romance.

“Really, it’s fine. I mean, I only decided I had a thing for Severus a week ago, right? I’m sure it’ll pass soon.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. Annoyed, Harry rose to leave. “I’m leaving. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Harry, wait!” Hermione shouted as Harry was opening the front door. “Arthur sent over some pictures he just had developed. Won’t you take a look at them before you leave? We can’t possibly keep them all, and it would mean so much to him if you took some for yourself.”

It was a transparent attempt to get him to stay, but Harry realized he didn’t quite mind. Maybe it was because he didn’t actually want to go home and be by himself just yet, or maybe he was a bit curious to see if Arthur had discovered the flash feature yet on his camera, but he found himself nodding and walking back into the house.

“Wonderful,” Hermione sighed. “Ron, will you get the box of photos? I left them in the parlor. I’ll clean up in here.”

“I think he’s been saving all these up,” Ron explained as he handed the box to Harry. “Most of them are from last Christmas, but there are some even from your last birthday. That was, what, eight months ago?”

“Yeah, about that.” Harry pulled a stack of photographs out and handed the box back to Ron. He took a seat in an armchair and smiled at the first one. “Really, mate, what made you think that getting your mum a book of household spells for Christmas would be a good idea?”

“She was just commenting on how she wanted to get it! It was a practical Christmas present,” Ron insisted.

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said, perching on the arm of Harry’s chair. “With all your mother was going on about wanting gifts for the heart, I still can’t believe you thought a book about cleaning would be well-received.”

“Yeah, I caught on to that,” Ron said. He took the photograph from Harry’s hands. “That deep-cleaning spell left my skin pink for weeks.”

Harry laughed, already feeling more at ease. Perhaps this wouldn’t be quite as bad as he thought. They had quite a few photographs to go through, and they were all actually pretty entertaining. Arthur’s technique had definitely improved over the years. Harry would just stay here looking at the pictures until he got sleepy, then Apparate home and pass out right away. He’d be sure not to set an alarm for tomorrow, and could just sleep the weekend away. He wouldn’t even have to think about…

“Oh!”

Harry turned at Hermione’s gasp and looked at the picture in her hand. _Figures._

“Where’s that from?” he asked, his voice feeling tight in his throat.

“It looks like your birthday,” Ron said, peering over. “I’d forgotten he was here for that.”

Harry took the picture and tried his hardest to ignore the way his hands were shaking. Even if he were being totally objective, it was a very nice photograph. They were both sitting on a picnic blanket outside, Harry with his legs crossed and Severus with his own stretched out before him. Arthur had clearly caught them in a very happy moment; Harry was laughing and even Severus had a thin smile upon his face. It was definitely the carefree summer day Harry had remembered his birthday being.

“How did I not notice?” he whispered.

Because now, seeing it in the photograph, it was as clear as day. That look in Severus’s eyes, when he was looking at Harry…it was the same look shared by all the couples in the photographs that lined Harry’s office walls. There was affection, amusement, desire, hope, and, yes, something that looked quite a bit like love. It softened Severus’s features and made him look beautiful.

And Harry had been too busy laughing to notice.

“Notice what, mate?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. “Severus loved me,” he said, his mind reeling too much to be ashamed at the way his voice cracked. “And I was so self-absorbed I didn’t even see it. And now it’s too late.”

“It may not be—”

“He asked me to play matchmaker, Hermione. He’s moved on. I missed my chance.”

Hermione wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Harry. But perhaps the date tonight didn’t go well?”

“How could it not? Neel is intelligent, ambitious, and funny, not to mention gorgeous and elegant. He’s everything Severus wanted. And Severus deserves the best, regardless of my feelings for him.” Harry loosened himself from Hermione’s embrace and stood. “I have to go. Truly.” He glanced down at the photograph still in his hand. “Do you mind if I take this?”

“Of course not.” Hermione looked like she was about to cry.

“Thanks. I’ll…thanks.”

Harry didn’t really know where he was supposed to go from there. The last thing he wanted to see were the cheery photos lining his office wall, but he also couldn’t bring himself to go home just yet. He just knew he needed to get _out_. And so, with no destination in mind and nothing to guide him except his own sorry thoughts of what might have been, Harry stepped outside.

* * * * *

It was raining, of course. As if it would be anything else. Harry quickly cast Impervius on the photograph but didn’t care enough to worry about his glasses or clothing. It wasn’t terribly cold out, and being sodden and wet complemented his mood quite nicely.

Somehow, he ended up outside of his office building. He leaned up against the brick wall and took the photograph out again. Damn it, they looked so fucking _happy_. There could have been countless other pictures like this, but with Harry looking back at Severus with the same expression of adoration on his face, but now? Harry closed his eyes, the sense of defeat overtaking him entirely.

“Did you lock yourself out or are you simply _trying_ to come down with pneumonia? I assure you, you will not have my sympathy either way. I refuse to coddle you when you stubbornly persist in being an idiot.”

Harry’s eyes shot open. Severus was standing in front of him, looking impeccably dressed in a Muggle suit. A black umbrella kept him dry. Harry quickly shoved the photograph in his pocket.

“Just ended up here.” He ran a hand through his wet hair, trying to get it out of his face. “How was dinner?”

“Delicious.” Severus didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes away from Harry’s.

“And the symphony?”

“A moving performance.” Oh God, Severus didn’t even blink. Harry felt the stare go straight into him, lighting a fire in his gut. He felt unaccountably nervous.

“And Neel?” he asked, his voice catching in his throat.

“A delightful evening companion. A perfect gentleman with a quick wit and an appreciation of fine food and music.”

“Oh. Good.” Harry could feel his knees shaking underneath him. He grasped fruitlessly at the wall behind him, searching for something to grab onto should his legs give out entirely. “I’m glad you had a nice time.”

“I didn’t.” The rain poured down even harder, bouncing off of Severus’s umbrella.

“What?”

“I hated every second of it.”

“But why?” Harry asked, perplexed. “It sounded like you had a perfect evening with Neel.”

“You foolish boy,” Severus rasped. “You utterly ridiculous, dense, idiotic, _foolish_ boy.”

Oh, God, when did Severus get so close? Somehow he was right in front of Harry, so close he could feel his breath, and now the umbrella was covering both of them. Harry felt his entire body begin to tremble.

“Why do you think I came into your office in the first place?” Severus’s voice was barely a whisper in his ear, but as far as Harry was concerned, he might as well have been shouting.

“You wanted to find love,” Harry said, frantically gulping for air. He felt he was close to hyperventilating, and being so close to Severus was not helping.

“I wanted _you_ , Harry.” The hand that was not holding the umbrella sneaked behind Harry’s head and pulled him closer to him. His next words were spoken directly against Harry’s lips. “Only you.”

Harry thought it was Severus who initiated the kiss, but really, he had no choice but to close that gap between them with his lips. They were two oppositely charged forces desperate to be reunited. Harry reached one hand up to latch onto Severus’s hair, while the other finally got the much-needed stability Harry had sought by reaching around Severus’s waist.

This is what it was supposed to feel like. It wasn’t just two sets of lips pressing together, two tongues twining together. It was two beings realizing they were more powerful together than apart. It was a reunion of souls after far too long being separated. The only word running through Harry’s mind was _yes_.

It was as simple as that.

 _Yes._

At this point in time, Harry had nothing left to debate or question and no thoughts of what would have happened or could have happened. This was it; this was right… _yes._

“Might we go inside?” Severus asked when they broke apart for air. “There are things I’d rather like to do to you that I can’t with only one hand.”

Harry nodded, only now realizing all the blood in his body had rushed to his cock and he was doing a decent job of humping Severus’s leg. Flustered, he turned to unlock the door.

Somehow, being in the light of his office lobby brought reality back to him. Some of the euphoria melted away, replaced with a cautious optimism and a hearty dose of confusion.

“Why would you go through all that trouble?” Harry asked.

Severus sighed as he closed his umbrella and shook some of the water out. “I should have known you would want to talk now.”

“Sorry,” Harry muttered. “I’m just a bit surprised, is all.”

“Just as well.” He set the umbrella on the floor and turned back to Harry. “For years, I watched you destroy yourself over that Patil twit.”

“I thought you said he was a perfect gentleman!”

“He hurt you; he will never be high in my esteem,” Severus said dismissively. “Now, as I was saying. I saw you destroy yourself over him. When you couldn’t live up to his ridiculous expectations of what a lover should be, you essentially shut down the possibility of ever finding love again. What’s more, I knew it would never even occur to you to think of me in a romantic light; you never quite saw us as equals. I needed to put myself in a position so you would be forced to view me as somebody who possesses the basic need for human companionship. Your career was an added bonus—it put you in the position of power.”

“So, you’re saying all of this, from the very beginning, was a plot to win me over?”

“Essentially, yes.” For the first time that evening, Severus looked hesitant. “Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not. It’s just…why me?”

Severus moved in closer to Harry and brushed a damp tendril of hair out of his eyes. “Because you fought for me. You insisted I live and that I be honored. You refused to settle for my merely tolerating you and pursued a friendship, even when I made it wholly difficult on you. You make me feel worthy of life. Without you, I fear after the war I would have just…melted away. You gave me a reason to stay around.”

Harry smiled and leaned into Severus’s caress. “I’d like you to stay around for a while.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” Severus replied, and leaned in for another kiss.

Harry returned it eagerly. Severus’s touch was addictive. It was all Harry could do not to moan out loud.

“You feel incredible,” Severus whispered as he nibbled at Harry’s bottom lip. “Better than I ever could have imagined.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile, the curve of his lips leading inevitably to another kiss. “Mine.”

“Yes,” Severus agreed, twining Harry’s fingers with his own. He frowned. “Your hands are freezing. How long were you walking outside in the rain feeling sorry for yourself?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t care.”

“Hmm. Well, we’ll just have to get you warm.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. “ Severus gently tugged Harry’s coat off his shoulders. “Beginning with removing these wet clothes. You’ll catch your death.”

“Can’t have that,” Harry breathed.

“No.” The jacket fell to the floor. “And this shirt as well…but I’m afraid I’m going to have to remove your glasses to get it over your head.”

“That’s fine.” Either the room was unnaturally silent or Harry’s heart was beating exceptionally loud, because he could hear each and every beat as loud as a timpani.

“Very well.” Severus carefully removed the glasses from Harry’s face and set them on Emma’s desk. Harry’s vision blurred a bit, but it only added to the surrealism of the moment. His shirt soon joined the coat on the floor. Severus ran his hands up and down Harry’s chest, tracing the its lines and contours. “Lovely.”

Harry flushed under the close scrutiny. “Not really.”

“Yes,” Severus insisted. He kissed a trail down Harry’s chest, not stopping until he was kneeling on the ground in front of him. His hand rested on Harry’s belt. “May I?”

Harry gulped. “Please.”

Severus nodded solemnly and unbuckled the belt. “And these jeans…besides freezing you clear to the bone, they are highly restrictive. I can’t imagine how you wear these blasted things.”

“They’re comfortable,” Harry said. He hissed as the air hit his damp skin.

“More comfortable than this?” Severus asked. He rubbed his hands up and down Harry’s thighs, easing tension Harry didn’t even know he had. His legs felt like butter.

“No,” he admitted. “Not at all.”

Severus nodded. “Step out of your shoes.”

Harry didn’t hesitate to obey. Once his shoes and socks were off, Severus slid the pants the rest of the way down.

Harry stood there shivering in only his y-fronts. To be standing there, practically nude, in the middle of his office lobby, with Severus kneeling fully-clothed in front of him, was probably the most erotic sight he had ever witnessed.

Severus reached up and lightly laid his hand on Harry’s crotch. He said nothing, but stared inquisitively up at him as he began to gently rub Harry’s prick through the fabric.

“Yes.” Harry’s voice trembled. “Yes, please.”

Severus carefully eased the y-fronts down Harry’s legs and helped him step out of them. Then, silently, his eyes still locked on Harry’s, he slowly licked Harry’s cock from root to tip.

“Oh, God!” Harry’s hips thrust involuntarily. “Severus!”

Severus reached up and grabbed his bum, so tightly Harry thought his cheeks would be bruised. But he was grateful, because he wasn’t sure how else he would stay upright, especially now that Severus had his entire prick in his mouth and was sucking at him as though he was some delicious treat.

“Yes, Severus, please, yes!” Harry babbled. He had never felt anything so wonderful in his life. He so wanted to close his eyes and surrender completely to the bliss, but then he wouldn’t be able to see Severus worship his cock. He let out a groan of frustration.

Severus took his cock out of his mouth and rubbed it against his cheek. “Come for me, Harry. Come for me. Come in my mouth.”

How was Harry supposed to hold back after that? Severus only managed two more sucks in before Harry was shooting off in his mouth, his body fairly shaking with the intensity of his orgasm.

Harry pulled Severus up and kissed him deeply. He swirled his tongue around in Severus’s mouth, taking pleasure in tasting the remains of his release. “Mmm,” he sighed contentedly.

“I want you,” Severus said, peppering Harry’s face with kisses.

“Okay,” Harry said. “Do you have anything?”

“No,” Severus replied, clearly frustrated. “I suppose we’ll have to use a spell—“

“It’s fine,” Harry said, removing Severus’s coat and unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s not like we won’t be doing this again. Maybe later tonight.”

“You think quite a bit of my stamina.” Severus pulled Harry flush against him, close enough so Harry could feel the heat of his length.

“You haven’t let me down yet.” Harry made quick work of removing the rest of Severus’s clothing. He was somewhat regretful that he wasn’t lavishing Severus with the same slow seduction he had shown him, but he told himself Severus wouldn’t mind right now. They would have plenty of time to go slowly in the future.

Both of them finally nude, they embraced each other fully. Severus’s mouth on him before had felt incredible, but this hot skin-on-skin feeling was nothing short of divine. Harry grunted in surprise when his back bumped up against a wall. Even when his knees buckled beneath him, his lips never broke contact with Severus’s. They fell to the floor, their limbs intertwined.

A tingle of magic rippled through the air; Harry felt his hole become slick and loose. “I didn’t even hear you say it!” he gasped.

Severus quirked an eyebrow at him. “I always told you learning wordless spells was of the utmost importance.”

“Yes, for shagging. Somehow, I missed that in your lectures.”

“Hush.” Severus slowly inserted one finger in Harry’s hole. “You’re already prepared, but I couldn’t resist.” He slowly thrust the finger in and out, then added a second. “I look forward to when I can be the one to fully stretch and ready you. No spells. Only my fingers.”

“Mmm, yes,” Harry agreed. His prick agreed as well; it was already mostly hard again. He twisted into Severus’s intimate caress. “Want you, Severus.”

Severus kissed Harry’s neck and down his collarbone. “Forgive me. I don’t know if I can wait.”

“Then don’t.” Harry lay down on the floor, grateful he had decided against hardwood floors in favor of lush carpeting, and pulled Severus down with him. “Please.”

Harry felt the tip of Severus’s cock touch his entrance. “Please,” he whispered once more.

In one slow, sweet movement, Severus was in him. Harry savored the fullness. It was as though he was being fitted with a missing piece he hadn’t even realized he was lacking.

“Are you—”

“Fine,” Harry gasped. “Better if you move.”

“If you insist.”

Severus was not a traditionally handsome man, nor was he a particularly nice one. But right now, when he was thrusting in and out of Harry with the sensual rhythm of some sort of fertility god, to Harry, he was perfection.

“Yes, Severus, yes!” he chanted, overcome by the increasing speed of Severus’s movement. “Yes!”

Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from Severus’s. He reached down and grabbed his prick, growing more aroused with each thrust. Finally, completely overwhelmed, he climaxed, his seed splattering upon his chest. A few more frantic thrusts, and Severus followed him in his completion as well.

It was several long moments before either of them moved to do anything other than offer a gentle kiss or caress. It was only when Harry shivered from the air hitting his damp skin (but whether it was still damp from the rain or from the sweat of their lovemaking, he was not sure) that Severus frowned and reached for his jacket.

“Here,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping down Harry’s chest. “We should get dressed if we don’t want to give your assistant a show in the morning.”

“It’s Friday night; she won’t be here till Monday,” Harry whined, still not wanting to move. Still, he accepted Severus’s hand and rose to find his clothing. “We can go back to my house, if you want.”

“Of course,” Severus replied. He was already half-dressed. How he managed that Harry did not know. Harry was still trying to locate his clothing.

Harry was just buckling his belt when he heard Severus speak.

“What’s this?”

Harry glanced over and saw him scrutinizing the photograph. It must have fallen out of Harry’s pocket during their activities. “A picture Arthur Weasley took at my birthday party. Nice, isn’t it?”

Severus nodded. “We look happy.”

Harry wrapped an arm around Severus’s waist and looked at the picture with him. It was strange, but now it rather looked like he and Severus were holding hands in the image. “Yeah, we do.”

Severus kissed the top of Harry’s head.

 _Yes,_ Harry thought. _Yes._

He would buy a frame for the photograph in the morning.  


  


-end-

  
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